Sacred Sleep - Phan
by kay.lee.831
Summary: All of a sudden everything started hurting, and for no obvious reason. Why did Dan keep crying, day after day? Why couldn't he even enjoy a good time out with his friends without getting sad? No one knew, but they wanted to find out.


sacred sleep – one

•

"What are you doing after this class, mate?"

I jumped, startled by the feeling of Phil's warm breath flowing over the sensitive flesh that was my neck. I was immediately overcome with chills, and I turned around to give him a good smack on the back of the head. I wasn't mad, it just shocked me.

Phil recoiled, bringing his hand to the place I had just struck. "Ouch," he deadpanned. "Care to tell me why you did that?" His eyes were actually watering, and I was flooded with guilt.

"Sorry, sorry!" I exclaimed, touching the now tender spot on the back of his head. "It's j-just, I don't l-like it when stuff touches my neck." I could feel my face flushing as I stuttered the words under the gaze of his piercing blue eyes.

He gave a small, shy smile, and I turned back to my notepad, where I'd been scribbling nonsense poems around the calculus equations.

My phone buzzed while I tried, and failed, to learn about sine and cosine, and some old hippie catching another old hippie smoking something? With a swift movement, I had the text pulled up. My eyes rolled dramatically.

_you didn't answer me :( – p_

_what was the question again? :P – d_

_what're you doing later? – p_

_idk – d_

_can we go to the treehouse? – p_

As I was typing out a response, Miss Nicole cleared her throat, pointing at the board. My head shot up and I felt guilty again, which I seemed to be doing a lot that day.

"Daniel, if you don't start paying attention, I'll have to give you attention," she paused for dramatic effect with a glint in her cold eyes. "Again." She was tapping her foot on the tiled floor, pissed.

"Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am." I responded quickly, tucking my phone underneath my leather-clad thighs. She turned back to the board, seemingly satisfied.

I'd just picked up my pen to jot down notes when it buzzed again.

_sorry for getting you in trouble – p_

_it's alright, mate :D – d_

_okay! so, treehouse? – p_

_yes, but back to the flat soon after – d_

_okay again! i'll just text mum – p_

I smiled, bittersweet, at the thought of Phil informing his mum of yet another night at the flat. She probably thought he was trying to move out, with how much time he spent there.

We were only juniors in high school, but we spent most nights at the flat my parents used to own. My father left when mum got sick, about five or so years ago, so now I own the flat, because of her will.

It took a while to get used to the silence, the loneliness, but I fared pretty well. I learned how to pay the bills quickly, when I had to go three days without water _and _electricity. Phil kept me company a lot of the time, but even he had limits, and a family, so I spent one or two nights alone every week.

Phil was such a great friend. He'd been there for me when I was shocked by my dad's departure, after Adrian died, and when mum got sick and _she _died. Everyone else around me left, but Phil stayed and he didn't treat me like a dejected puppy. He was everything soft and safe and secure.

He was my best friend.

My everything.

•

The bell rang, and everyone fled the room within seconds. Phil was halfway across the room, chatting animatedly with Cat. I think they were dating. They touched all the time, brushing shoulders, tucking locks of hair behind each other's ears.

I zipped up my glittery black backpack, avoiding their gazes.

Phil called my name as I was slipping the straps over my small shoulders, eyes prickling with tears for no reason. I turned towards him, tugging my hood up. "Yes?" I said, voice coming out in a broken whisper.

He said something Cat, probably _I love you _or _you look pretty_, and she laughed, slapping his chest playfully, then walked out.

"What's wrong, are you alright?" Phil's eyes were wide, and his movements were frantic, as he flapped his arms about, not knowing what to do with them.

_Look at what you did, Dan! You were being overdramatic, being sad for absolutely no fucking reason, and now he was upset! Such a little bitch, attention-whore! No one loves you, they never have and they never will. No wonder you're all alone._

I began to spiral more and more with every thought. My mouth opened and closed as hot tears leaked down my face. Phil took a step towards me asking what's wrong? over and over again, as if it was the only thing he could say, as if he was a broken recording repeating itself because it didn't know any better. I slid onto the floor, shaking violently as I saw all the dirt all over my clothes.

_Dirt bad dirt bad get off get off clean it please please clean it get it off get it off Phil please help help_

Phil saw and lifted me up, dusting my trousers off as I stood there in a panic. "Dan, look at me." I trained my eyes on the floor, ignoring him. Besides, I could barely see through the fresh set of tears that were threatening to spill down my soaked cheeks.

His slender fingers came to rest on my jaw, guiding my eyes up to meet his.

"Just breathe, Dan. Alright? Breathe." His hand lingered on my skin as he chanted _in out, in out _with each breath I took, and he didn't remove it until it was there a fraction longer than normal, inadvertently heating my face up once again.

"'Kay," I whispered to his too-close figure. My heart began to slow as we breathed in sync, so close his chest bumped mine as we inhaled lungs full of air. His proximity caused the tears to stop coming, and the iron fist clamped around my lungs loosened, relaxing my entire body.

He noticed me relax, then he did, too. I let an awkward laugh hang between us, thanking him with a soft look. He returned it, and we walked out of the classroom, stopping for me to get some water from the fountain by the bathroom.

"You ready to leave?" Phil asked, nudging my side with his elbow.

I tensed up at his touch, opening and closing my locker for no reason. He drew his arm back, smiling thinly.

"Let's just go," I mumbled, feeling my spirits already begin sinking back into the depths of darkness and sadness. We walked in silence for a moment, both of us wondering what had just happened and why. After a few more moments, Phil cracked a lame joke about a chicken, and we both laughed, returning to a more comfortable silence.

As soon as we stepped onto the pavement, someone shouted, "Lester! Over here!" Phil spun around, and cold air swooped in to fill the space his body had just occupied. I shivered, despite it being around eighty degrees outside and I was wearing a jumper.

He called back to the guy, one of his friends, a dork named PJ. I fiddled with my phone, pretending to check my texts while slipping an earbud in. A few taps later I had my favorite playlist pulled up, and I didn't hesitate before clicking play.

A clash of instruments filled my ears, then the angst-filled voice of Gerard Way. His lyrics were so simple, yet so powerful, relatable. He wailed the words, "I'm Not Okay," and my heart screamed along with him. His voice was so open and raw. It was anything but composed and perfect, but I loved it nevertheless.

Phil tapped me on the shoulder, cocking his head in an endearing way at my sudden spaciness. "PJ wants to go somewhere?"

He phrased it like a question, even though it wasn't, not really.

I paused my music, looking at his colorful t-shirt. "Er, you go ahead without me."

As much as I tried to hide my sudden bout of trembling, he noticed my shaking immediately. Concern washed over his face as he fidgeted with the straps on his backpack. "Need a minute, mate?" Thank God. Yes, I needed a moment.

I could be alone with my thoughts, even though I didn't necessarily want to leave Phil's side at that moment. But he was allergic to all types of smoke, and he didn't need to know I smoked.

I nodded, beginning to walk away. He grabbed my arm, turning me around with such ease until I was facing him again. God, he sure did like eye contact. "Treehouse? Or flat?"

"I'll see you at the flat," I mumbled faintly, shrugging off his arm and walking away.

He was left standing by a slightly confused PJ, who was still clueless as ever.

I left him there, waiting until he was out of my sight, then darted around the corner to light up a "cancer stick," as my gran used to call them. "You'll get sick if you keep it up, you will!" She scolded my mother, as she chain-smoked during our visits there.

Little did she know how right she was, how right she was about it all.

•

end of sacred sleep – one


End file.
